Act of disturbance

The Tempest
Old Vic, until 21 August

Sucker Punch
Royal Court, until 31 July

Last week when I trotted over to the Old Vic to see The Tempest I had no idea I was about to experience one of the strangest performances of my life. About 20 minutes into the show a heavily built man arrived and installed himself with much effortful wheezing and groaning in the seat just behind me. His rasps and gasps continued for some time and when their tremors finally subsided I was able to return my attention to the play. But then he fell asleep. And then he started snoring. And snoring and snoring. These were not the restful snuffles of a dozing poodle but a continual cannonade of triple-thick raspberries that blasted out across the stalls and were clearly audible, to judge from the numbers of swivelling heads, by half the audience and most of the cast as well.

Irritated play-goers poked the snoozer awake several times but he repulsed them vigorously. ‘I have a condition. It is unavoidable,’ he said, and fell straight back into his raucous slumbers. The woman next to me walked out in frustration. Alerted by this disturbance, an usher sidled over and shook the man’s shoulder with a gentle offer of help. ‘Nothing can be done,’ said the wakened giant, ‘unless you have a magic potion to cure my sinusitis.’ As the usher withdrew in defeat, his victor was himself already falling captive to the coils of sweet oblivion. Fresh sallies of trumpeting began to rumble all around me. And so, with white noise blocking my bandwidth, I struggled for two hours to concentrate on the play.

I feel confident that I witnessed, or half-witnessed, a competent but not outstanding production.